Senegal part 8

We were all pretty disappointed that we were not able to see any of the town. Kat, one of the Canadian interns, spent her year in the Gambia and often travelled to Dakar. She told me several times what an amazing city it was.

We went out the second night to a few nightclubs. The African girls wanted to go to a traditional African bar. The guys wanted...I didn't know what they wanted, because they ran up ahead. And I wanted to go to someplace with a lot of people.

I had no idea how to dress. They were all slipping into shiny, slippery lamé tank tops and tight jeans. I was dripping sweat, so settled on a rather unsexy tank top/skirt/sandal combo.

The first disco was nearly empty. It looked like any club I had gone to back home, with a large bar, comfortable couches and mirrored walls. Or maybe a dance studio from hell. The music was techno-ised African music that I didn't recognise.

I plopped down on a couch with the Romanians and watched the scene around me. The African girls were amazing dancers and really knew how to move. If I could only be 1/10th as graceful as they were.

I'm a horrible dancer with no rhythm, so I was hoping for something vaguely Britney Spears-ish, so I could get up and gyrate on the floor. One of the girls dragged me on my feet and I made a half-hearted attempt to dance. I mainly wobbled back and forth.

Soon, a bunch of white guys (translation: fat, sweaty, piggish businessman-types) swaggered in, surrounded by a gaggle of lanky black girls. As per my suspicions, they were prostitutes. Our hosts quickly wisked us out and into a different bar.

This one was distinctly "African" themed, with low lights, fake palm trees, creaky wooden floors and picnic tables. It almost felt like being in the gallows of a pirate ship. After 20 minutes, not a single soul passed through the doors, so off we went again in searchb of adventure.

I was accosted outside by a young man about my age. He was clearly on something and was mumbling to himself and pointing at me. He followed us about 1/2 a kilometre down the street, and no amount of "leave me alones" could get him off me. The African girls were only warming up, but myself and the Romanians had had enough. We hailed a cab and prayed that we would not be "taken for a ride". Luckily, we got home in one piece, only marginally ripped off, and no worse for the wear.